


R-Rated

by ddagent



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Actors, F/M, Filming, Friends to Lovers, Love Scene, Scars, Sex, Trauma, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first movie after his car accident was always going to be stressful. Throw in a love scene with his best friend, and Phil Coulson was filming a disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R-Rated

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Agents of SHIELD or any of its characters, or settings - all belongs to Marvel and ABC.
> 
> Originally inspired by a prompt, this fic has gone past the original PWP idea it was supposed to be. Huge thank you to righteousnerd, for without whom I would be sitting at my laptop crying. Also thank you to everyone's support over the snippets I shared at Tumblr - you guys are the best! Hope you enjoy.

As one of Hollywood’s highest paid actors, Phil Coulson had to keep in shape. He’d never been a huge fan of personal trainers or the gym; not enjoying the culture of staring into a mirror and lifting weights. His best friend had persuaded him to try martial arts when he’d first started acting, and when he’d lived in Los Angeles he would go on a five mile run with her every morning. Now that he was back in L.A, the morning runs had continued. But Phil was starting to realise just how unfit he’d become.

 

 “Come on old man, keep the pace!” Melinda May called back to him, jogging back up the hill to his home.

 

Phil huffed, glaring at his best friend before finding some hidden source of energy. He managed to meet her, and even match her pace back up to his front porch. “You know, I’m _seventeen months_ older than you.”

 

Melinda just smiled, passing Phil one of the ice cold water bottles she’d stored on his porch. She looked a little out of breath, her dark hair sticking to her forehead. But she still looked beautiful. He could feel rings of sweat underneath his armpits, his hair clammy against his forehead, and his lungs were choking back air. _God he was so unfit._

 

“You’re getting better every morning,” Melinda said, smiling as she rested against the porch railings. “What’s your physical therapist saying?”

 

“He says that if you don’t end up killing me, this may be the best thing for me.” Phil chugged half the bottle, feeling Melinda’s hands reach up to prevent him from drowning himself. “Thank you, Melinda. For everything.”

 

Her hands squeezed his shoulders, his best friend beaming up at him. “No need to thank me. But you know, if you’ve got a little extra energy to burn, how about I lay out the mats? Like the old days?”

 

Phil swallowed, watching Melinda retreat to his front door. He wasn’t quite sure if he was ready for the full martial arts experience just yet, but he’d always enjoyed his time with Melinda on the mats. He’d learnt a lot, got his ass kicked, and there had been a lot of laughter too. Phil followed Melinda inside, still unsure if she was joking or not.

 

“I think before we do anything else, I need to take a shower.” Phil sniffed his shirt. “I definitely need a shower.”

 

Melinda threw him a smile. “Maybe I’ll join you.”

 

They both stopped, stood, watching the other. Melinda was smiling, although it was fading as her joke (or offer, _maybe offer_ ) hung in the air between them. They used to make such remarks all the time when they were younger. When they shared a crappy apartment in Venice they used to tease each other about conserving water all the time. But this felt different. Since he’d come back from Portland, something had been different. Phil would readily admit that, whatever it was, he liked it.

 

“Morning guys.”

 

Frowning, Phil turned to see Maria emerge from his kitchen. “Maria. Morning. That key was for emergencies.”

 

“This _is_ an emergency. In my hand I have the script, _the_ script. So let’s have breakfast and we’ll talk about it.”

 

The moment broken, Phil and Melinda followed their agent into the kitchen. Maria had been their agent for eight years now, taking over the reins when Nick Fury had retired. She knew them well enough to toss away scripts they would hate; combat rumours she knew weren’t true; and to protect them from the truth if necessary. Maria was one hell of an agent. She was also a pretty good friend.

 

Script readings over breakfast were a tradition between the three of them. So Phil moved around the kitchen, reaching into the refrigerator for the milk and eggs needed for pancakes. At the breakfast bar, Melinda glared at him. “What?”

 

“Remember what your physical therapist said?”

 

“’You were in a car accident so you can have pancakes every morning?’” Phil sighed. “Kale shakes and wheat toast it is. Maria, what about you?”

 

She made a face, holding up her breakfast in the form of an espresso. “No thanks. So, _business._ I have in my hand next year’s biggest movie. It’s a spy action thriller with incredible character development and romance,” Maria smiled at Phil, before turning to Melinda. “And it has a kick ass chase scene across two major freeways and a stunt sequence that will even challenge _you._ Their first choice for the leads is you two. Take a look.”

 

Maria passed them each a script, and both of them shared a look before eagerly digging through the pages. The last time Phil had worked with Melinda had been seven years ago, on an action movie called _Six Bullets._ It’d done incredibly well at the box office, stretched them both in the acting department. It had been great to work together; to have complete faith that his co-star knew what they were doing. Phil only read the first few pages but already he had an answer. Working with Melinda, after everything that had happened, just felt _right._

 

“Who’s directing?”

 

“Barton.” Clint Barton was one of the biggest names in action movies. He had a dedication to detail that even impressed Melinda. “It’s six weeks shooting in Los Angeles, then another six shooting in Prague. The money they offered was good. But I got you better.”

 

Phil couldn’t stop grinning. This was exactly what he needed. Maria had suggested Tahiti after his rehab, but nothing would beat a good shoot. Quality time with Melinda was just the icing on the cake. He looked over the breakfast bar at Melinda, happy to see that she was just as excited as he was. But she was holding back.

 

“What’s the catch?”

 

Maria paused. “It’s not _really_ a catch. See it more of a chance to expand your repertoire. A new challenge!”

 

“Maria. What is it?”

 

Phil stared between the two women until Maria eventually broke. “Okay, there’s a sex scene.” _There we go._ “You’ve both done them before, so I assumed it wouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“Not with each other, Maria.” Melinda frowned, the muscles in her cheek clenching. “Why did you think this would be a good idea?”

 

“It’s an _amazing_ opportunity. And it’s not like you two haven’t done this before!”

 

“ _Friday Night at the Drive In_ doesn’t count!”

 

Whilst Melinda and Maria argued, Phil flicked through the script to find the scene in question. It read romantic, intimate, the character notes describing how important the scene was. A far cry from _Friday Night at the Drive In;_ the summer teen flick that he and Melinda had shot together after the release of _S.H.I.E.L.D._ That had been nothing more than a simulated oral sex scene, and Melinda had spent most of it putting things down his pants. This scene was a world apart.

 

Melinda turned to Phil, arms crossed, awaiting his answer. He _wanted_ this movie. He just wasn’t sure if he could do this scene. Ducking Melinda’s gaze, Phil rested his hand against his chest. He could almost feel it beat through his shirt. “Would I have to go topless?”

 

He watched Melinda’s face fall. She knew what he was really asking. _Will they show my scar?_

 

“Make up can do wonderful things these days. Or CGI.” Maria paused, staring at both of them. “I need an answer by Monday. Read the script, make a decision. But this movie was meant for you two.”

 

Maria squeezed his shoulder before leaving them to make a decision. Neither of them said a word until they heard the sound of the front door close. The toaster popped, Phil pulling out two slices of burnt toast. The smell hung in the air, but it was the images that stuck with him. The scar, the _mark,_ of that night. An intimate moment with Melinda. The images stoked the anxiety in his stomach.  

 

“Maybe it’ll be like _Friday Night_ ,” Melinda said after a moment. “Between us, I mean. Funny, rather than sexy. That part I can work with. I’m just worried about you. You’ve been doing well, really well.”

 

“I know. But I want to work. I want to work with you again.”

 

Melinda reached over and touched his hand. He held it back, squeezing it hard. “We can find another project; it doesn’t have to be this one.”

 

“I think it does.”

 

It felt important that this was the first project Maria brought him after his accident. It would almost be cathartic to be in a fast paced action flick where he was the hero; the one in control. Smiling at his best friend, Phil realised he was glad to be making this journey with Melinda. Even if he wasn’t looking forward to every step along the way.

 

\--

 

“This script is _amazing._ I’m so excited you and May are doing another movie together.”

 

Phil retrieved the script from Skye, putting it in a safe place far away from the soda that was threatening to explode in her enthusiasm. He was glad he’d taken the job too; upon further reading of the script he realised Maria had been right. This role _was_ meant for him. With every day of rehearsals, with every long training session with Melinda, Phil was feeling more like his old self again.

 

Grabbing his own soda, Phil sat beside Skye on the couch. “So, can we put something like that in the tweet?”

 

Skye gave him an amused look. “Sure we can, AC. Here we go, how about this.” She typed something into his official twitter account. _So excited to be doing the new Barton movie! Great script, amazing cast!_ “What do we think?”

 

“Do there have to be so many exclamation points? Can’t it just be, I don’t know, ‘looking forward to the new movie, will be a lot of fun’?”

 

“You’re not writing a letter to your Grandma, AC. Just relax. It’s good that you’re excited. If you’re excited, your fans will line up to see this movie. I know I’ll be first in line. I love your movies. I love May’s too. Any news on that _S.H.I.E.L.D._ reboot, by the way?”

 

Phil smirked. “I’ll keep asking.”

 

He tried to keep up with Skye on the computer, but found himself lost in a world he didn’t quite understand. He and Melinda had first met Skye a couple of years ago in a diner in Los Angeles. She was having trouble with her idiot boyfriend; Melinda gave her a helping hand. Since then, Skye had assisted him with social media and Melinda had taught her self-defence. She was one of their few friends that weren’t in the business and was a real breath of fresh air.

 

With his tweet finally published, Skye turned back to the script. “So, I saw that there’s a really sweet kiss in there. What’s it going to be like kissing May?”

 

Phil shrugged. “I’ve kissed her before.”

 

Skye’s eyes bulged, her face beaming in unrestrained joy. “ _Seriously_?”

 

“Yeah, you know that. You’ve seen our movies.”

 

“Which I’ve promised to stop illegally downloading.” He threw her a look, but Skye just smiled. Closing her laptop, she turned and just stared, as if trying to will the truth out of him. “There’s also a pretty sexy love scene in there. Are you two going to rehearse that? Or have you two _already_ rehearsed that?”

 

Phil opened his mouth, unsure of how to answer. Thankfully, before Skye asked another inappropriate question, he heard a key in the door. Melinda walked in, rubbing the back of her neck. She looked tired, her arms constantly reaching up to massage her muscles. It seemed they’d pushed her hard in training; although Phil wondered if she was the one pushing. She smiled wearily as she sat between him and Skye on the couch.

 

“Good day?” Phil asked, passing Melinda a bottle of water.

 

She nodded, smiling gratefully for the fluid. “Long day. But it was good. What have you two been doing?”

 

Phil looked towards Skye; the young hacker just grinning. “Today I taught AC all about Twitter.”

 

“Exactly. I know all about the tweets.” Melinda’s face curled in amusement, and she and Skye shared a look at his expense. Sighing to himself, he got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. “Melinda, you hungry?”

 

“Starving.”

 

“What about you, Skye? Want to stay for dinner?”

 

The young brunette shook her head. “I got to bounce. But it was great hanging out with you. It’s going to suck when you guys go on location.”

 

Luckily for Skye, location shooting was still seven weeks away. But Phil knew very well that time would fly. There was still so much to do, so much to rehearse. As much as he enjoyed Skye’s company, he was glad when she made her goodbyes. Rehearsing scenes with Melinda would be so much harder with Skye as their eager audience.

 

Phil made dinner as Melinda talked about the day’s training. They ate in relative silence, both cleaning their plates. Getting up for a second helping, Melinda offered some to Phil. She frowned when he turned her down. “Phil, you need to keep your strength up. This movie’s gonna be tough.”

 

“I know, and I am. Kale shakes, wheat toast…everything the Doctor ordered.” He smiled at Melinda as she re-joined him on the sofa. “But I have a love scene to prepare for. Can’t have love handles.”

 

He enjoyed Melinda’s soft smile, although hesitancy appeared at the mention of their love scene. Since signing on for the movie, they’d avoided the subject; instead choosing to focus on the action sequences that would push both of them. But Phil hadn’t quite forgotten. Every day he looked in the mirror, glad to see that his gut was toned and his arms were retaining some definition. He avoided the scar running down his chest.

 

“Phil.” He looked up, realising that Melinda had called his name. His hand was absentmindedly stroking his shirt, and he immediately moved it to the back of the couch. “Maybe we should rehearse it.”

 

 _Somewhere in L.A, Skye is screaming with joy right now._ “Excuse me?”

 

“The love scene. There’s dialogue before we have sex, and we should probably get it right before we start shooting.” Melinda took another mouthful of pasta before she put the bowl down on the coffee table. “I think we would both feel more comfortable doing it here first than in front of an audience.”

 

Phil agreed. This was supposed to be an intimate moment between their characters. It would make sense for their first rehearsal to allow that intimacy. “Okay, let’s do it. Pass me the script?”

 

When they first started out, they would always rehearse together. Melinda starred in a lot of action movies, and between work outs she would run lines for whatever comedy he was filming. Now they pushed aside the furniture, checking the scripts to set up the scene. They’d rehearsed plenty already, and it was easy to slip into the minds of the characters.

 

“Okay, here we go.” Phil stood, propping up Melinda. The previous scene was a massive gun battle, with Melinda’s character Reed getting grazed with a bullet. Together they stumbled a few feet, Phil looking around his home like it was an empty safe house. “ _We should be safe here._ ”

 

“ _For a while_.” Melinda – _Reed_ – pulled away immediately. Phil felt her loss, and allowed it to show. Their characters were growing closer at this point; his character would miss her presence. He watched Melinda stop, wince at the imaginary pain in her side. “ _You don’t know these men like I do. They’ll find us. It’s just a matter of when._ ”

 

“ _Well until ‘when’ happens, we should take a look at your side._ ” Phil stepped forward, hand reaching out for Melinda’s waist. He hesitated, seeking permission from Melinda before he touched her. “ _I’ll be gentle. Promise._ ”

 

She snorted. Her hand moved up the fabric of her shirt, revealing smooth skin that would later be marred with makeup. “ _It’s nothing. Just a graze._ ”

 

Phil nodded, slipping closer to Melinda. He rested his hands on the waistband of her jeans. “ _You didn’t have to take that shot for me. Hell, I’m surprised you haven’t killed me yet.”_

“ _You’re growing on me. I…_ ” Melinda paused, pressing her tongue against her top set of teeth. Phil loved it when she did that. Meant she was thinking as her character. Eventually she looked up, eyes betraying the shock that he had slid even closer. His hand was now pressed against the bare skin of her side. _“It’s not the worst thing in the world, having you by my side.”_

His hand slid against her face, felt her breath catch. “ _Well I’m glad I’m not the worst thing in the world.”_

Phil closed his eyes, leant forward for a kiss. It was soft, teasing, lips barely grazing each other. He felt the blood rush in his ears as his hand pushed more of her shirt up. Her nails bit into the nape of his neck, pressing his mouth closer to hers. She let out a gasp as Phil broke their kiss, letting his lips linger on the corner of her mouth. They’d kissed before, many a time in rehearsals and on set. But there was something about this, about the way that Melinda looked at him, that made Phil want to kiss her again. And again.  

 

“Undress me.”

 

“What?” Phil’s forehead furrowed, trying to recall the script. “I don’t remember that line.”

 

He stepped back, reaching out for the script behind him. He scanned the page, frowning as he realised it was an adlib. Cursing himself for ruining what had been a pretty good rehearsal, he turned back to Melinda. “I’m sorry. Could we try that again?”

 

Melinda shrugged. “Why not?”

 

\--

 

Principal photography of _Dead Men Sing_ went off without a hitch. It felt good to be back in front of the camera, like he’d never really left. The crew were warm and welcoming; Barton always making sure he was able to keep up. Maria was on set every day for the first week, keeping an eye on Phil. Melinda, when not shooting herself, always came to watch his scenes. She even managed to prank him on his first day on set, Skye shooting the video for a Vine, or for YouTube…he wasn’t entirely sure. He just knew that Melinda took five years off his life with that stunt.

 

Of course when he’d told her that, she’d gone deathly pale and walked away.

 

There were no more pranks after that, just a strong dedication to getting the right shot. Barton was very clear that he wanted as little CGI as possible, which meant a lot of the stunts were achieved with rigs and rope and harassed stunt coordinators. But they got through the six weeks in Los Angeles easily enough before flying to Prague for the final half. They even took a selfie on the plane. Skye would be proud.

 

“Here we go, Mister Coulson, room 308,” explained one of the production assistants. “Mister Barton would like to see you on set as soon as you’ve settled in. Something about scene one hundred and six?”

 

Phil nodded grimly. _The love scene._ He’d enjoyed the shoot in L.A. because it had been a lot of stunts and dialogue. Prague brought the more perilous shoots. “I’ll be down as soon as I can. Thank you very much.”

 

Using his key card, Phil pushed open the door to his home for the next six weeks. It was a lot nicer than some of the places he’d stayed in. One memorable hotel room had had a nest of cockroaches leasing his bath tub. With an expansive king size bed and French doors leading to a balcony, Phil thought he could be quite happy here. Or he would be, once that scene was out of the way.

 

After stowing his luggage and freshening up, Phil turned towards the mirror. He looked good for his age; working out with Melinda and eating right had actually paid off. He might even look good in his love scene. Apart from one thing. Slowly, mechanically, Phil undid the buttons of his shirt. He let the ends hang, turning his attention to his reflection. 

 

_The scar._

 

He ran his thumb down the length of the gnarled flesh, feeling his skin pucker into goose bumps. He could still remember how cold it had been that night, how wet the roads had been. Sometimes he liked to imagine he could remember the car accident, could remember the pain. Something to draw on in his performance. But, in reality, he could remember very little. The radio. Another car. The hospital. _Melinda._

He remembered her eyes. They were the first thing he saw.

 

Blinking away the image of his best friend, Phil realised he needed to get to the set. He buttoned his shirt, making sure to turn away from the mirror in the process. In the hotel lobby one of the production assistants called him a cab, and Phil was whisked away to their set for the next six weeks. He found Barton in the safe house; a grim room with little furniture and a rickety bed sporting dirty sheets.

 

“Don’t worry, they’re not actually dirty. We have someone who does that for us.” Clint clapped Phil on the shoulder. “Glad you made it. Welcome to the safe house set. Everything but the cobwebs is for show.”

 

Phil chuckled, but his gaze kept straying to the bed. He tried to picture two faceless people under the sheets, fucking with wild abandon. But quickly those faces took on the image of he and Melinda, and Phil had to rub his eyes clear of the picture of his best friend groaning in ecstasy.

 

“You okay?” A nod. “Great. Listen, I know how stressful sex scenes can be. Before I directed, I did a little acting. Mostly porn.”

 

Clint stared at him, waiting for Phil to laugh. After a couple of uncomfortable beats, Phil eventually did. Smiling, Clint herded him away from the set into the crew areas. Everyone was busy setting up for another intensive six week shoot. They stopped in Clint’s office, greeted by a life sized cardboard cut-out of Robin Hood.

 

“I’m a big archery fan,” Clint said by way of explaining the figure. “I’m still pissed I didn’t get to shoot _The Hunger Games._ There would have been a shit ton more archery, that’s for sure. Take a seat, Phil.”

 

Phil did, settling himself in front of Clint’s makeshift desk. There was a photo of Clint and a redhead already set up; a Polaroid of a little girl doing ballet also pressed inside the frame. The rest of his office was busy; cast photographs and storyboards covering walls and even the floor. Phil tried not to stare at the one that looked like two people having sex. Especially as he believed it to be an artist’s rendition of him and Melinda.

 

“I know sex scenes are no one’s favourite, but what I love about this scene is how important it is to the characters. This is the first time they really touch each other; it’s the first time that Reed lets anybody in. I’m not after something tasteless, with Stephen banging into Reed like he’s a frat boy on Spring Break.” Phil was infinitely glad Clint was using the character names. “Here’s what we’ve got so far.”

 

He pulled down a storyboard, detailing the different camera angles he wanted to shoot. “With sex scenes, you can’t plan everything. But there are some specific shots I want to pick up. I already talked with Melinda about what she’s comfortable with, so now I’m talking to you. I know about your scar, the costume department has been working on a couple of ideas to hide it. You still want it hidden, right?”

 

Phil nodded. “I do. The scar-“ He looked down at his chest. “I don’t want that to be part of the movie.”

 

“Not a problem _._ ” Clint scribbled a few notes down on the storyboards. “Don’t worry, we’re looking to get the shoot over in a day and then be back to the crazy stunts. You won’t have to spend too long naked with Melinda May. Although, personally, I think a lot of men would kill to be in your position right now.”

 

Phil managed a polite chuckle, but inside his stomach was churning. _Naked. With Melinda._ He was sure many men would like to take his place. Right now, Phil would trade with any of them.

 

\--

 

They’d only spent a week in Prague before the love scene came up in rotation. Phil and Melinda blocked the scene with Clint the day before, going through the motions of how they would end up in bed together. They were fully clothed then, barely touching. For the actual shoot, Phil would be in a tiny pair of shorts and a flesh coloured tank top stuck to his skin with hairspray. It was a far cry from the last love scene he’d done, where all he wore was a little pouch to hide his penis. Still didn’t make him any more comfortable.

 

Melinda, on the other hand, looked exceedingly comfortable. She opened the door to the set, smiling and nodding at the crew. She, like him, was wearing a white robe that covered her to her knees. She smiled as she joined him in the empty chair to his left, grabbing the water bottle by her ankle.

 

“Morning,” she greeted, taking a sip. “Nervous?”

 

Phil tried to appear calm but Melinda’s look suggested she saw right through him. “I’ll be okay. Kind of glad you made me drink all that kale. Maybe I’ll even pick up a Teen Choice Award for this.”

 

His best friend grinned, but it didn’t quite lighten the look in her eyes. From a distance Melinda would appear to be the great professional she always was. No matter whether the scene consisted of her in bed with a fellow actor or her trying to escape from shackles underwater, she was always calm and professional. But Phil had known Melinda for thirty years. He knew the signs. The way her fingertips flexed against her water bottle; how her lips thinned and then opened. She was nervous.

 

Reaching out to comfort her, Phil placed his hand atop of hers. She flinched. “Sorry. I just-I meant-“

 

“It’s not you.” Melinda took another sip of water. “It’s the scene.”

 

“If it helps, you’ll _definitely_ pick up a Teen Choice Award.” Another weak smile. Making Melinda laugh seemed to ease his own nerves. “Maybe you could put something down my pants again. What did you do for _Friday Night_?”

 

Melinda paused, brow furrowing. Then she brightened. “Small things. Paperclips, business cards, Reese’s Pieces. Anything small that would fit down your pants. I did find a beetle but I thought that would be too much.”

 

Phil shuddered at the thought of an insect crawling over his junk. “I appreciate that.”

 

They turned to each other; their nerves fading away in the presence of their laughter. Yet both of them tensed when Clint came on set, signalling that filming was about to begin. There were only ten people in the room including them, only the necessary personnel on set. When they’d filmed _Friday Night at the Drive In,_ half the crew had watched Phil try and pretend that Melinda was enthusiastically sucking his dick. Even with so few people watching, Phil wasn’t sure this would be any easier.  

 

After giving his assistant some directions for the cameras, Clint came over to join them. “How are you guys this morning? Doing okay?”

 

“I think so,” Phil said, squeezing his robe covered knees. “I think we’re going to be okay.”

 

Melinda nodded, arms wrapped around her abdomen. “We’ll be fine.  Just want to shoot this and move on.”

 

“Don’t worry; we’re using a couple of cameras so we won’t have to do multiple takes. Walk with me, guys.”

 

Phil and Melinda stood up and followed Clint onto the actual set. A prop assistant was preparing the bed for their scene; one of the lighting operators making sure it wouldn’t be too dark. Phil secretly wished one of the bulbs would blow.

 

“We’re going to start the scene with Phil on top. As the camera moves around, you’ll switch and Melinda will be on top.” Beside him, Melinda smiled at her own private thoughts. Phil tried to stop focussing on the bed sheets. “How I want to end the scene is with Phil once again on top. Both of you are fighting for dominance as well as trying to lose yourself in the moment. Give and take.” Clint grinned. “You guys ready?”

 

Reluctantly, they both agreed. Phil reached for his robe first, loosening the knot and draping it over the back of his chair. The tank top felt awkward, sticky. He checked the fabric to make sure his scar wasn’t showing through. The tiny little shorts he was wearing were also riding up his ass. Maybe he should have gone for the pouch.

 

“Everything okay?” Melinda asked, dropping her own robe out of the corner of his eye.

 

Phil turned and swallowed; desperately trying to retain some moisture in his mouth. But his throat went dry at the sight of his best friend. There were no tiny shorts for her, just a thong. The rest of her… Her skin was beautiful, smooth; revealing both freckles and scars. Her stomach was taut, her legs long and shapely. Her breasts were beautiful; her nipples erect in the cool air of the set. She was _gorgeous._

 

“Phil?” Melinda asked again, stepping closer to him. “Is everything okay?”

 

He was being rude. This was hard enough for both of them without him acting like a letch. “Everything’s great. You look…great.”

 

A pause. “Thanks.”

 

Both of them walked to the bed. Melinda lay against the sheets, hair not quite fanning out underneath her. She propped herself up on one arm and turned to him, encouraging him to join her. Swallowing once more, Phil did so. He lay over her, propping himself up so his entire weight didn’t rest on her. Beneath him, she made a face. The moment of levity, however, did nothing to ease his nerves.  

 

“Okay, and…ACTION!”

 

Suddenly he wasn’t Phil and she wasn’t Melinda. They were their characters, a spy and an assassin, caught up after a fire fight and needing to release their passions. It was Melinda – _Reed_ – who kissed him first. She pushed up from the bed to press her lips to his; to push and pull him back to her. Phil ran his fingers through her hair in the hope of gathering her closer. But as he tried to move his hand out to touch her face, he found his fingers caught.

 

“Shit,” Phil cursed, trying to yank his fingers away.

 

“Ow.” Melinda frowned, fingers clasped at his wrist to stop his jerking. She eased his fingers out with her own. “The makeup team put something in it. Maybe stay away from my hair?”

 

Phil nodded. Suddenly they were back to Phil and Melinda, the moment broken. Suddenly Phil was aware of all the people watching him. “Good call.”

 

“ _Still rolling._ ”

 

Taking a deep breath, Phil turned to Melinda and smiled. She returned it, before sliding her hand against his neck. She’d become Reed in an instant: the look in her eyes was darker; the way she held herself more rigid. Her lips were firm, pulling. They weren’t meant to tease but to take. Phil gave it all away, but took something for himself as he flicked his tongue against her lips. His mouth travelled to her throat, fingers gently holding her neck in place as he pressed his tongue against her skin.

 

Phil felt the sheets slip down his back and for a brief moment wondered how the tank top would look on screen. Would they have to use a back double? Would the hairspray hold? But then Melinda’s nails were scratching his shoulders and he was back in the moment. He could detect a slight taste of almond under his tongue. It was the shower lotion Melinda used; he’d borrowed it once when he’d crashed at her place. He left kiss after kiss along her skin, grinning at the way Melinda’s body rose to meet his touch. Her hand slid against his shoulder, the fabric of the tank top rubbing against her hand. Suddenly Phil was pushed backwards, his body collapsed to the sheets.

 

“ _Great guys, that’s perfect. Touch her a little more, Phil.”_

_Like I want to do anything else._

Melinda was on top of him, bare torso high above his chest. She was straddling his waist so their crotches weren’t touching, and her fingers were digging into his shoulder blades. Phil took a moment to marvel, although perhaps it was a moment too long. Melinda leant down, lips brushing his ear.

 

“ _Stephen,_ you’re supposed to be fucking me, remember?”

 

Phil gripped Melinda’s hips almost immediately, forcing her down onto his body. Her breath was knocked out of her, a strangled moan following after. He held her gaze, embodying all the dirty thoughts he’d ever had about his best friend into one lurid look. But his eyes softened as he began to touch her. His fingertips were light, exploring across her stomach. Melinda’s head was thrown back, her body gently rocking against his. She was incredible; Phil couldn’t keep his eyes away from her. He doubted anyone watching at home would either.

 

Retreating to the safety of his character, Phil turned his attention to Melinda. One hand pressed against her hip, the fingers digging into the skin. He continued to press until Melinda gasped. The other hand slid up her stomach, up towards her breasts. Suddenly Stephen was gone, replaced by Phil who was suddenly staring at his best friend’s breasts bobbing in front of his face. He wanted to kiss them, lick them, see what sounds Melinda made when his teeth teased her nipples.

 

_He wanted her._

Suddenly Phil was conscious of Melinda, of the cameras, of the shorts riding up his ass and the tank top chafing against his chest hair. Suddenly Phil lost his momentum and he was staring wildly between his best friend riding his body and the scar that seemed to burn through the fabric of his cover up. It was just too much. _Too much._

“ _Phil, everything okay buddy?”_

He nodded, offering Melinda on top of him a timid smile. “Everything’s great. Just need a little water.”

 

 _Moment broken._ Melinda pushed herself away, reaching over to grab her own bottle of water. Phil took a few sips, enjoying the few moments to collect his thoughts. After he handed the bottle back to the assistant, he turned to Clint. He didn’t seem satisfied.

 

“Okay, how about we do the third part of this scene, with Phil back on top? Remember, this is all about dominance and submission. Even though Phil’s on top, he’s not in control.” Clint gave them a thumbs up. “Let’s go again!”

 

Melinda lay on her back once more. Phil straddled her hips, his hands resting each side of her head like he was doing press ups. He looked down at Melinda, who looked more apprehensive than ever. _Get in the game, Phil. It’s not just you here._

“And, ACTION!”

 

Phil started doing push ups, careful to not let his crotch actually touch Melinda. He remembered doing these in his back yard, Melinda resting her feet on his back to help him keep the pace. Melinda was underneath him now. _Not Melinda – Reed._ Phil took a short breath and got back into his character. This was all about dominance and submission. As he continued to do push ups to mimic thrusting, he leant down and nuzzled Melinda’s neck. He felt her pulse under his tongue, felt Melinda gasp in his ear.

 

Phil couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She was beautiful _._ Her full lips seemed to tremble; her hands seemed to know just where to touch. He felt himself getting turned on by Melinda’s acting, by the proximity of her naked body to his. He could feel his cock start to ache.

 

_No. No. No._

Pulling himself up, Phil got back to thrusting. He continued to do the push ups, staring at a spot on the opposite wall. He was determined not to push the boundaries of their acting relationship, or more importantly their _friendship._ So he concentrated. _Stephen._ He was _Stephen._ And Stephen fucks like this.

 

“ _Phil, could you unclench a little? You look like you’re a high school freshman on Prom Night.”_

“Hey. Everything okay?”

 

Melinda’s voice called him back, and he looked down to see the worry in her eyes. She slid a hand against his chest, maybe hoping that they could restart the scene in a different direction. But the moment Melinda touched his scar, he was done. He flinched, jerking away as far as he could. It was an automatic reaction. He didn’t mean to hurt her. But looking back at his best friend, he could see that his actions had stung.

 

“ _Okay, let’s take a break_.”

 

\--

 

Whenever Phil was frustrated, he took a long, hot shower to wash away his troubles. Today was no different. _The scene had been a disaster._ He’d never been able to sink into character, not really, and he’d alternately struggled between thinking about Melinda in a sexual way and worrying about the scar on his chest. After the third hour Clint had called it. They would reshoot in a couple of days.

 

Phil slammed his hand against the shower door, feeling frustration and anger run through him. This had never happened before. He didn’t screw up scenes; he didn’t confuse emotions. But everything had changed after that night in Portland. Not just his body, but his heart too. He needed to talk with Melinda.

 

Stepping out of his shower, Phil was immediately aware that someone was hammering on his door. He dressed quickly, his damp skin soaking through the fabric. He checked the peep hole and immediately opened the door. No word of greeting, just a rush of air as Melinda pushed past him. He shut the door quickly, knowing that this would be a conversation for closed doors.

 

“Before you start, I just want to let you know that I’m sorry.”

 

Melinda deflated on the spot; anger flooding out at his apology. “You’re damn right you’re sorry. That scene was a mess.”

 

“I know. And I _am_ sorry.” Phil sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “My head’s just a mess. I couldn’t get out; I couldn’t focus on the scene.”

 

“You should have told me. We could have worked it out, discussed the problem. Now we have to reshoot it which means putting both of us through this hell again.” She pressed her hands to her hips, planning a course of action. “So let’s talk. You and me, right now. Let’s fix this.”

 

Phil would have preferred to wait until the shoot was over to talk things out, but now it had become a necessity. If they were to finish this movie they needed to have everything out in the open. He gestured for Melinda to sit on the end of his bed; Phil joining her. Whilst he was perched on the very end, hands clasped on his knees; Melinda sat cross legged and calm. She was always the calm in his storm.

 

“I’m sorry for pulling away. You touched my scar and I reacted badly.” Phil looked up from his knees to smile softly at his friend. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

 

“It’s okay. I understand.”

 

Phil plucked at the front of his t-shirt. “I just felt so uncomfortable. The tiny shorts, the tank top. The CGI budget will probably be just them putting nipples and chest hair on me in post-production.” He paused, squeezing his knee caps to let his frustration out. “I felt like my scar was on show. I hate it. I hate how it reminds me of that night, like I’m constantly marked by death. I know you like your scars.”

 

Melinda snorted. “I don’t _like_ my scars. I appreciate them. There’s a difference.”

 

He shrugged. “How?”

 

She held out her arm, showing him the burn on the inside. “This one I got when I was sixteen. Mom was away, I tried to cook for myself for the first time. Ended up in the ER. The one on my knee,” Melinda lifted her leg. “That I got when a piece of rigging shifted and I wasn’t quick enough. Scars tell two stories. They tell you the story of what happened to you, as well as what you’ve overcome. May I?”

 

Melinda pointed towards his shirt. Phil hesitated for a moment, but summoned up the courage to reach for the hem. He pulled it from his body, dropping the fabric beside him.  This was the first time someone other than a nurse had seen his scar. He didn’t know what he expected showing Melinda. He just knew that his breath left his body the moment she touched it.

 

“This scar tells the story of a wet night in Portland, and a driver going too fast, and a car accident.” She stroked the length with her fingertips, feeling the knots of gnarled flesh. Phil felt his chest tighten, unable to suck in the oxygen he needed. “But it also tells the story of the two weeks you were in hospital. It tells the story of the night you fought for your life. It’s not a mark of death. This scar is proof that you’re alive, Phil.”

 

Melinda had shifted closer on the bed to touch him; so close that they were sharing the same breath.  She continued to caress the length of his scar, Phil finding it arousing rather than disgusting. It felt intimate, rather than piteous. He reached up, laid his hand over hers. Together they touched his scar.

 

“You mean a lot to me, Phil.” His heart started beating wildly at those words. “A lot. When I got the call that you’d been in an accident…you don’t understand how glad I am that you’re alive. How glad I am for that scar.”

 

His fingers caressed Melinda’s cheek. She ducked her gaze, but Phil kept it. He didn’t want this moment to end. “When I woke up, I was thinking about you. Thinking about all the things that we promised to do when I moved back to L.A. Since I got back, I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

 

Melinda smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting up and the light in her smile reaching her eyes. “Were you thinking about me today? On set?”

 

He nodded; it feeling strange to admit that. But this was their moment. If he couldn’t admit it now, he never would. “All I could think about was how much I wanted to touch you. I wanted it so much, but there was a huge part of me that knew it wrong. We’re friends. You’re my best friend.”

 

“It’s not wrong, Phil. I wouldn’t have asked you to undress me in L.A. if I thought it was wrong.”

 

“You-“ _Shit._ He’d read that moment all wrong. Looking into Melinda’s eyes, he hoped he didn’t make the same mistake twice.“Can I undress you now?”

 

Melinda nodded. Their hands lifted from his scar to the hem of her vest. Together they lifted it from her body, dropping it to the floor. She was bare underneath. Back on set, Phil had felt wrong to stare, to touch. But now, with Melinda’s permission, he could savour this moment.

 

A hand looped around his neck, pulling them both to the sheets. Melinda held his gaze, but pressed his other hand against the waistband of her shorts. Together they pulled them free. Fingertips dug into his hips. Phil took the message and tugged off his own shorts. Left in underwear, Phil took Melinda’s hand and helped her tease the trim of his boxers. They slid the fabric down his legs, Phil gasping as the heel of Melinda’s hand grazed his cock. He felt anxiety and arousal twist and taunt in his stomach, softened only by the pressure of Melinda’s fingertips as she directed him to her panties. All at once they were naked and bare, nothing left between them.

 

Underneath him, Melinda stroked the length of his scar. “You’ll definitely win that Teen Choice Award, Phil.”

 

Phil laughed, leaning down to press his lips and his laughter against Melinda’s neck. “Yeah, right. I love you, Melinda.”

 

She touched his throat, his lips. She seemed to understand how those words had changed for them since Portland. “I know. I love you too.”

 

Two hands pressed firmly against his chest, pushing him gently to the cool sheets. Melinda’s hands caressed his chest before she straddled his hips. In the soft afternoon light of his hotel room, Melinda looked _glorious._ The sun picked out the colour in her hair, produced shadows that danced across her skin. He chased them with his hands, sliding up over her stomach to make his best friend shiver and keen. She was amazing. She was _his_.

 

 _And he was hers._ Light fingers pressed against his stomach, the curves of his hips. Towering above him, Melinda began to trace the dips in his skin, the other marks life had left on his body. Phil found himself growing aroused, his cock hardening just above Melinda’s hips.

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

He nodded; taking the hand resting over his scar and sliding it down to his cock. “I am. I don’t want this moment to stop.”

 

Melinda’s hand encircled his cock, thumb gently teasing the head. He bit his lip, sucking in the moan threatening to escape. He felt his body tense at the arousal spiking through him; the pressure of two years of celibacy reaching critical mass. His own hands slid up Melinda’s thighs, caressing her bare skin. She was smooth to the touch, her skin broken by scars he already knew the stories to. He continued to stroke her, hands sliding firmer and firmer as Melinda’s touches grew bolder. Eventually he had to pull her hand away.

 

“Not yet.” He was out of breath, like he’d just done one of their five mile runs. He smiled at her, eyes glazed but unable to tear away. “I want to touch you.”

 

When Melinda nodded, Phil lifted his knee and pressed it to her thigh, spinning them both around. With her permission, Phil felt comfortable exploring all the desires he’d bottled up on set. His left hand cupped her breast; thumb teasing her nipple. His mouth pressed kisses along her stomach, watching the expression on Melinda’s face. His nail grazed her skin, Melinda’s eyes half closing in pleasure. He continued, teasing his nails along her tender skin until she was writhing against the sheets.

 

Like he’d done for her, Melinda took his hands from her breasts and thrust them towards her pussy. Mouth dry, Phil reached for her. She was wet, her body slick. Phil explored her folds, feeling Melinda grow wetter as he teased her, finding places that would drive her crazy. He pressed his thumb to her clit, his other hand teasing a finger inside her. Looking up over Melinda’s body, he found her hands kneading her breasts, pinching her nipples.

 

“Melinda, I…” Every compliment, everything he had to say, just sounded ridiculous in the moment. So he just continued to stroke her, letting his body say what he could not.

 

He could feel Melinda’s orgasm building, could feel her body tense and her breathing grow more erratic. Phil touched her clit with care, keeping his thumb to the edges as it swelled under his touch. His fingers – now three – were slowly thrusting inside of her. Phil found the edge of her orgasm and pushed her over it. Her body tightened, squeezing around his fingers. Her body – covered in a thin film of sweat – bucked underneath him. His name was called in a harsh moan as Melinda exploded in pleasure.

 

Once she was still, Melinda reached for him. She tugged his hand and body up, fingers closing around his jaw so she could kiss him eagerly. Her tongue slid against his teeth, her lips desperate to connect. “That was amazing.” Her forehead brushed his. “They certainly wouldn’t put that on screen.”

 

“Absolutely not. A woman orgasm? Pfft.” Phil kissed Melinda once more, his lips curving over her cheek to just behind her ear. “I think you should have another one, just to make up for it.”

 

He felt Melinda nod against his neck. Phil leant down for his wallet on the floor, finding the condom inside. Together they eased it onto his erection, Melinda teasing his shaft long after his hands turned to her body. Then, Phil slid inside her.

 

A thought dawned on Phil as he slowly thrust inside Melinda. Such a scene would be hotter than anything they could film on that set. Melinda with her head half hanging from the bed, his lips buried at her throat. Their hands entwined and pressed against the mattress, fingers tightening with every wave of pleasure. Phil’s cock inside her, teasing her with shallow thrusts that made them both ache. Melinda’s legs wrapped around his waist, her heels pressing into his ass. Sweat covered them both, thin daylight falling onto their naked bodies. The constant sounds of half caught breaths and whispered names. Passionate. Intimate.

 

Phil came first, gasping against Melinda’s mouth. She came again seconds afterwards, body clenching his. They didn’t move after, not for the longest time. They just stared at each other, touching each other with eager hands like they were seeing each other for the first time. Maybe they were. This was, after all, the start of something new.

 

\--

 

“Hey, Phil, hurry up the movie’s starting!”

 

Phil grinned, poking his head out of the kitchen to wave at his friends. “I’ll be right there!”

 

Humming to himself, Phil put the bag of popcorn inside the microwave and pressed the _start_ button. From the lounge, he could hear the sounds of the upcoming trailers. His friends were quiet until they recognised a familiar face or just laughed at a bad stunt or line. He continued to hum until the popcorn started to crackle and pop, smiling at the smell of sugar wafting through the air.

 

Two hands slid around his waist, pressing against his hips. Phil looked back at Melinda and leant down to steal a kiss. She smiled as they parted. “You’re missing the movie.”

 

“Someone wanted popcorn.” Phil cupped Melinda’s face and kissed her properly, deeply, letting his lips linger whilst the popcorn crackled behind them. “Are you staying after the movie?”

 

Melinda nodded. “Of course. We’ve got to rehearse after all.”

 

_“Seriously, guys, you’re missing the movie!”_

 

Feeling admonished by their friends, Phil and Melinda retreated from each other’s embrace. The timer went off on the microwave, and Phil tore it open into a large bowl. Melinda stole a handful before joining their friends in the other room, taking up her usual position at the end of the couch. She stole another handful before Phil sat in the middle, and suddenly everyone was reaching for his popcorn.

 

“Ah, jeez, another Garrett flick,” Barton groaned, stealing a couple of kernels and sharing them with his wife. “It’s the same old shit, with the same boring action hero. Why do people even pay to see these movies?”

 

“Because Grant Ward _did_ win a Teen Choice Award,” Phil explained, smiling at Melinda at their private joke. He was still annoyed that he hadn’t won, even with his nicely defined arms and incredible ass. _Melinda’s words._ “Hey, we still kicked their ass in ticket sales.”

 

That made Clint smile. _Dead Men Sing_ had been such a success that all three of them were working on a new movie together, the reboot of the _S.H.I.E.L.D._ franchise. A teaser trailer for a new superhero movie came up, Skye explaining all the hype surrounding it. Maria chimed in a few times too, explaining the behind the scenes bidding war that had taken place.

 

“Oh, oh, here we go!” Clint grinned at the opening pre-credits sequence for _Dead Men Sing_. “Shit that was a hard sequence to film.”

 

“I remember; I nearly sliced my hand open on a piece of broken glass.”

 

On the floor in front of him, Skye shushed him. “I’m trying to watch the movie here!”

 

“You saw it in theatres.”

 

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s always different on TV.”

 

Phil turned to Melinda for help, but his best friend – his _girlfriend_ \- just shrugged. She stole another handful of popcorn, eyes fixed on the screen. After a while, Phil settled down to watch too. It really was a great movie, one of his best. The script was incredible, the direction excellent (Clint would no doubt agree), with a female lead he couldn’t keep his eyes from. After a while he wasn’t watching himself and Melinda run around cordoned off streets and shoot blanks, but rather Stephen and Reed running for their lives.

 

With all their guests occupied by the movie, Melinda rested her head on Phil’s shoulder. He stroked her hair, fingers brushing the length of her neck. As their characters on screen made it to the safe house, they both knew what was coming next.

 

“I’m not sure I can watch this with them in the room.”

 

Clint shrugged. “Eh, I’m over it. I’ve seen them have sex for five hours before.”

 

Skye made a face. Maria threw popcorn at Clint On the screen Stephen and Reed were having their big moment; their kiss. Phil felt himself tense as it cut to the love scene. It felt like they were watching their own sex tape with a bunch of their friends. Certainly the only person who would look at him was Melinda. But they did look great together. The second shoot had been the key. It had produced something passionate, intimate. A stolen moment.

 

“Now, is that a real nipple or a CGI nipple?”

 

Phil sighed at Maria. “It’s a real nipple. We decided it would be easier to edit the scar out post production than add nipples and chest hair. Next movie we’re keeping the scar.” He pressed a hand to his chest, Melinda’s hand sliding over his. “It’ll tell an interesting story.”

 

They continued to watch the scene until it faded to another, the pair of them lying in bed waiting for the walls to close in. In real life, the walls were open, wide open. The movie continued to flash by, their characters engaging in death defying stunts and the occasional passionate kiss. It was an incredible flick, a world where Phil got to be the action hero, and he got the girl until she walked away.

 

Feeling the weight of Melinda’s hand against his chest, Phil decided that real life was better than the movies.


End file.
